James P. Shannon in 1965, when
he was auxiliary bishop of St. Paul-Minneapolis.-- CNS

James Shannon loved the church all his life

Bishop who resigned over Humanae
Vitae and married is laid to rest with honors

By MARY BADER

My friend had only days to live. She had made peace with everything in
her life but the Catholic church. The church, to which she had once given so
much of her generous self, had torched a great, lingering anger in her when it
annulled her marriage. In her eyes, the legalism of the church was telling her
that her many years as a wife and mother of their children did not amount to a
real marriage. She felt, she said, like a pariah.

Those of us who loved her could never convince her that it didnt
matter what the canon lawyers said. She was as much a part of our church as she
had been her entire life but she didnt believe us. Until, that is, her
friend Jim Shannon paid a visit. He knew better than most about pariahs in the
church. A short time before she lost consciousness and slipped into eternity,
he quietly blessed her and she died in peace.

And now Shannon himself has slipped into eternity, having quietly and by
example encouraged our generation of Catholics who knew him to stay involved in
the church, despite profound disagreements with some of the decisions of the
hierarchy. His often-repeated statement that the Catholic church is my
spiritual home led others to realize the same. His refusal to become the
pariah that some once branded him gave us an example of how to live in an
ambiguous world where the road to justice seems always to climb a very steep
hill indeed.

As one admirer who knew him as a young priest put it, His life
showed us all that we could remain in the church and live a life of service for
others without being either repressed or embittered.

James Patrick Shannon once seemed destined to be the ecclesiastical
superstar of the St. Paul and Minneapolis archdiocese, a local lad who became a
brilliant scholar as well as an affable teacher, writer and pastor. He was
president of the diocesan college at the age of 35. As a new auxiliary bishop
in 1965, he attended the Second Vatican Council and shortly thereafter was
tapped to be the spokesman for the newly organized National Conference of
Catholic Bishops. He marched with Martin Luther King Jr. at Selma, Ala., and he
counseled draft resisters during the Vietnam years. He was, of course,
enormously popular with the young and the liberal elements of the Catholic
church in Minnesota. Many assumed he was destined to be archbishop or cardinal
one day. And then came 1968.

It may be difficult for younger Catholics to relate to the crisis of
conscience that divided the Catholic church in 1968 when Pope Paul VI issued
Humanae Vitae, the encyclical that upheld the churchs traditional
teaching against contraception.

As a bishop, Jim Shannon was expected to endorse the popes
position on birth control but he couldnt do it. As a priest and confessor
he heard the stories of ordinary Catholics struggling to follow the rigid
teaching, and he sympathized with them. As the debate that followed the
issuance of the encyclical raged, Jim found himself forced to publicly choose
between his conscience and hypocrisy. In the end he chose his conscience. In
September 1968 he wrote Pope Paul:

In my pastoral experience I have found that this rigid teaching is
simply impossible of observance by many faithful and generous spouses, and I
cannot believe that God binds man to impossible standards. In seeking to
counsel such persons I have found myself resorting to all sorts of casuistry
and devious kinds of rationalization, in the hope that I might both keep faith
with Your Holiness and with the people of God who seek my help.

I must now reluctantly admit that I am ashamed of the kind of
advice I have given some of these good people, ashamed because it has been bad
theology, bad psychology, and because it has not been an honest reflection of
my own inner convictions.

In his 1998 autobiography, Reluctant Dissenter, Shannon provided details
of the ecclesiastical politics that were making his life even more difficult
during this time. His participation in a television documentary about the
changing church attracted the wrath of the powerful Cardinal James Francis
McIntyre of Los Angeles, who had the executive committee of the bishops
conference censure Shannon. It was a shattering experience, exacerbated by the
failure of Shannons own superiors to support him.

In 1969 his resignation as bishop was demoralizing to Catholics in
Minnesota and to his many friends and admirers around the country. The times
were bad enough, with the country divided by the Vietnam War and what seemed
like turmoil in every corner of society. We were losing our moral leader,
too.

When Shannon married Ruth Wilkinson shortly after his resignation became
public, officials of the archdiocese said the action automatically
excommunicated him and released a statement: This news is reason for
great sorrow, because Bishop Shannon will no longer exercise his many qualities
of mind and heart in carrying out his priestly and episcopal
responsibilities. That statement couldnt have been more wrong.

Shannon went away for a few years and rebuilt his life with Ruths
help. He earned a law degree and practiced law in New Mexico, but after an
absence of five years, he returned to Minnesota to begin a new career as a
philanthropic foundation leader. I had the good luck to live in the small
suburban town of Wayzata, where Jim and Ruth bought a home and quickly became
part of our little community. They remained devoted to each other for 34
years.

Shannon again became an influential figure in the larger Twin Cities
metropolitan community. With his intelligence and connections, he could have
become a very wealthy man. Instead he ran a community foundation, and then
moved to General Mills, one of Minnesotas major corporations, to run its
foundation and become a national leader in philanthropy. Yet all the while, he
continued to be a priest to all who sought him out, the servant-leader of the
gospel.

He was considered the most consulted man in town. He made
time for anyone who asked to see him -- anyone -- whether he knew that person
or not. He counseled heads of companies and a long string of start-up nonprofit
leaders. He also volunteered his legal skills to help people who couldnt
afford a lawyer.

Shannon died of a cerebral hemorrhage Aug. 28 at the age of 82. At his
funeral Sept. 5 at Holy Name Parish, where Jim and Ruth have been members for
15 years, the many communities of his life surrounded him. His simple pine box
was made by monks at St. Johns Abbey in Collegeville, Minn., where he
served the Ecumenical Institute. Draped across his body was a blanket from the
college he once served as president, now the University of St. Thomas.
Concelebrating the Mass were several of his priest friends on the altar and
many others in the pews. Along with former Vice President Walter Mondale and
his wife, Joan, and other politicians and corporate leaders were plenty of
people who just simply loved Jim Shannon. Earl, the homeless man our community
more or less adopted, would have surely been there, too, had he not died first.
Shannon, of course, was at Earls funeral.

He was a lovely man, a square-built man whose white hair
often topped a face flushed with laughter. A humble man who made everyone feel
at ease. People talk about how he listened -- a quality that made him such a
good priest and made it difficult for him to disregard what he heard and
believed when he became a bishop.

Auxiliary Bishop Richard Pates represented the archdiocese at Jims
funeral and made a statement after the service to make it clear that Jim
Shannon had been reconciled with the church. Two other bishops also
participated -- John F. Kinney of St. Cloud, Minn., and Paul V. Dudley, retired
bishop of Sioux Falls, S.D.

As I looked around Shannons grave I saw many people who had
marched in hurt and anger 34 years ago when his resignation as bishop became
public knowledge. They were active priests, resigned priests, his former
students, endless friends. Many, if not all of them, regard him as a mentor.
Most have benefited from his direct, personal counsel and eagerness to be the
bridge connecting people with one another, and with the resources necessary to
bring their own visions to life.

Almost everyone with a bright idea went to Jim up until the day
before he died, mused Ronnie Brooks, director of the leadership institute
in St. Paul that bears Shannons name and will attempt to carry on his
vision of servant leadership by supporting leaders grappling with their
own values and how they work in the world. When Shannon spoke at the
institute he was often asked two questions: How do you hold on to your values
when people around you turn against you? And how do you know when its
time to leave an organization to which you have given your life? Jim Shannon
had answered those questions painfully in his own life, but he showed that a
true leader is faithful to the values, even if it means changing the context of
his life.